


Stop By Sometime

by Akindheartedfeline



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, First Kiss, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Natasha and Sam are just mentioned, also there are lots of run on sentences, like I'm pretty sure they are all just run on sentences, my first stucky fic so thats fun, yea this wasn't my idea but god bless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 20:17:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1912398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akindheartedfeline/pseuds/Akindheartedfeline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky makes a drunken mistake and thinks he crashes on Natasha's couch but it turns out to actually be her really hot neighbor's, the one with blond hair and blue eyes and a shoulder to hip ratio to die for and yea maybe he didn't make too big of a mistake after all</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stop By Sometime

**Author's Note:**

> its two in the morning and this was totally worth it
> 
> Inspired by this [this post](http://tickatocka.tumblr.com/post/85456038831/i-really-want-an-i-accidentally-broke-into-your), i read the idea and absolutely couldn't get it out of my head so here ya go

Bucky is not sure what he was dreaming about, if he could even dream with his alcohol induced state of unconsciousness, but he is pretty sure whatever it was would be ten times better than this because the bright morning sun is shining straight into his eyes from a window he is pretty sure he has never seen in Nat’s apartment and there is a cat sleeping soundly against his bare chest. He only starts to absently pet it as he fully wakes when he remembers that Nat does not have a cat and well this is an issue.

Only about seven seconds of his time are wasted on trying to convince himself that Nat is indeed asleep in the next room and she totally just got a cat in the last few days and he must have just never noticed the window, but in this new state of awareness he cannot ignore the unfamiliar feeling of the couch under his back. 

The bookshelves are way too organized and there is definitely a different rug under a different coffee table at a different angle from a different TV and yea. 

Bucky may or may not have fucked up royally. 

In his defense, it is not like the night before was the first time he had crept into a friend’s place to crash, Nat included. The way up the fire escape to her living room window was etched into the back of his head better than his own name. Really, Bucky thinks, he can just blame Sam because he was the one who insisted they go out that night, one last outing before they all become shut ins so they can study up for their end of term exams, and if he continued to take every drink Sam passed his way until he was seeing stars because he could afford to, well, he was just being polite. Maybe he had been rushing to get out of the cold and maybe he had a lapse of mind and thought Nat’s was the fifth window from the right and not the sixth. Bucky just figures blame is not his top priority at the moment when he is currently splayed out on a stranger’s couch half naked with a pounding headache still feeling very disoriented. 

Shooing the cat away does not prove to be as much of an issue as he thought it would be, although finding his shoes and shirt turn into a much bigger ordeal than he would have even thought possible because seriously where could he have put them?

Bucky spends the next five minutes muttering profanities only to come up still missing his shirt and man this is just not his day.

Seriously. Fuck Sam.

He is just about ready to give up, figuring the shirt is not even that nice and he could totally live without them, that he should just slip on his shoes and go next door to see if Nat is up yet, when someone clears their throat behind him and Bucky whips his head around so fast he nearly gives himself whiplash.

When he is met with a pare of bright blue eyes full of concern more than anger he sighs in relief because he probably will not get the cops called on him, not if he plays his cards right. Taking a moment to study the boy though, his worries of arrest pause because Nat has a _really_ fucking hot neighbor and how has never seen this guy before? He has short blond hair, soft vanilla fringe that he flicks off his face like a nervous habit. His broad shoulders are not tensed as he leans against the doorframe, which is a good sign, Bucky thinks absently. The boy wears a frown as if he is trying to work Bucky out; his dark sweat pants are slung low on his hips, a stark contraction to his exposed pale torso.

Bucky is in the middle of contemplating if it is even fair to the human populace for someone to have such an insane shoulder to hip ratio when the stranger takes a slow step forward. He opens his mouth then closes it, his face contorting in an amused sort of confusion before finally he pulls a hand from his pocket to scratch at the back of his neck.

“Do you want some painkillers or a sweater or something?”

Out of all the questions Bucky is expecting, an offering of medicine and clothes is at the bottom of the list so who can blame him when he just continues to stare at the stranger.

The boy shrugs, continuing, “I can see you shivering from over here and the only reason I can think of for you breaking into my flat only to not take anything,” he looks around as if taking count of his belongings, “is that you’re either insane or you were too drunk to tell the difference between my place and someone else’s and I’m not getting a vibe for the former so.” He trails off, surveying Bucky and taking a surer step forward making them only a few feet apart.

Bucky tries his best to suppress his smile, he really does, but there is a ridiculously cute guy not getting mad at him for breaking into his apartment. He altogether stops trying when the guy returns the grin fully with a small disbelieving chuckle. 

Bucky clears his throat, not being able to meet the guy’s eyes without laughing softly before saying, “Yea. That would be greatly appreciated actually.” He curses himself when his voice breaks (He’s tired and cold who can blame the guy?) although the blond bites his lip and looks away for a moment in response so who is he to complain?

They stand there for a moment just giggling over how ridiculous the whole situation is before the stranger turns around back into what Bucky assumes is his bed room and reemerges a few seconds later with a soft looking blue pullover covering his torso and a thick grey sweater in his hands. 

The guy tosses Bucky the garment as he walks past him calling over his shoulder, “I’m Steve by the way. Steve Rogers.”

Bucky watches the sway of his hips, the way he walks with an authority. It does not feel cocky though, with the way he glances back to make sure Bucky is actually following as if he is afraid he is about to pass out right behind him or something.

“My name’s Bucky,” he says in response, “My nickname anyways. Bucky Barnes.”

Steve leads them into the kitchen and Bucky finds himself hovering about the room inspecting cupboards and snooping around in the fridge and pantry while Steve does something he assumes is more productive. The blonde earns mega brownie points when he just allows Bucky to go through his stuff, glancing at him every few seconds in amusement. 

“What’s your actual name then?” Steve asks, shuffling through the contents of a drawer.

“James Buchanan Barnes. Not very short and sweet.” Bucky says with a soft smile, the name sounding almost foreign to him, like someone else much bigger than just _Bucky_.

Steve hums. “I like it.” He says simply and Bucky has to look away to keep his cheeks flaming from such a plain statement.

Eventually they settle at opposite ends of the kitchen, Steve leaning against the fridge and Bucky perched up on a counter next to the stove, both nursing a glass of juice. Bucky can already feel his head ache residing due to the meds and honestly he is still trying decide if he even believes Steve is real because Jesus this guy is just too good to be true. His pullover smells like something better than holy and Bucky is seriously considering never giving it back.

The silence that falls over them is oddly comfortable for two people that only just met. Bucky is nibbling at the ends of his toast when Steve breaks it.

“So, how did you get in here?”

“The window.”

Steve blinks. “This is a third floor apartment.”

Bucky shrugs. “With a conveniently placed fire escape that doesn’t take that much of a jump to catch the bottom ladder.”

When Steve laughs Bucky finds himself wishing he could record that sound and just play it over and over until he fell asleep that night. That, or at least have the memory of how the blond’s eyes crinkle with his fond expression sketched into the back of his mind so he can picture it for the rest of his life. 

“Actually,” Bucky starts, “I thought I was getting into your neighbor’s flat.” He points towards his right and Steve’s brow furrows before his eyes widen excitedly.

“Oh, that red head next door! Her name is Natalie or something? No, Natasha right?”

Bucky has to fight the urge to coo at Steve’s reaction because how does he manage to be six feet of pure sex packed in strong hands and a jaw line to die for that Bucky would seriously like to be fucked into the mattress by but also snuggle like a puppy.

The fact that they get along almost eerily well does not help either; it makes his heart swell a bit too much when they’re just talking turns into openly flirting quickly. 

Bucky does not even realize how long they had been talking, the topics swaying from university to their families to a ridiculously long discussion over Game of Thrones, until his phone goes off from Sam asking if he is dead in a ditch somewhere and if not, _can he come over because he’s lonely and bored?_

His phone dies before he can decide if he wants to respond, although he does figure it is time for him to take his leave since somehow he managed to stay from the late morning to the late afternoon in someone’s home he actually broke into on accident.

The goodbye is not nearly as awkward as the hello, included with an exchanging of numbers and Steve being adorably timid when he takes Bucky’s hand in his own gently, asking, “Do you think we could maybe do this again?” and because Bucky has always been just a bit too gutsy for his own good and because his breath is taken by just how stunning Steve really is and because he has kind of grown too fond of the blond dork to go back, he does not think twice before going up on his toes and pulling Steve in with his free hand, pressing their lips together in a firm kiss.

Although Steve is surprised it does not take long for him to reciprocate, releasing Bucky’s hand so he can wrap both arms around his waist and pull him close. While Bucky started out fevered and hasty, working his mouth over Steve’s hungrily, the other boy quickly soothes him with hands careful yet still solid at his waist. Bucky finds his hands intertwined in the blond hairs of his head changing the angles and tilting his head and just trying to convey a very vehement _yesyesyes_ to seeing this lovely boy again.

So yea maybe Bucky owes Sam flowers or something because he is really glad he accidently ended up on his dream guy’s couch last night, especially when Steve keeps the kiss languid yet still heated, the soft slow rub of their lips driving Bucky almost mad to the point of just pressing dull nails into the other boy’s shoulders and taking whatever he will give him. 

He does not even have the heart to be embarrassed when he openly whimpers as _finally_ Steve licks at the seam of his mouth, tongue hot and slick, and Bucky happily accommodates, opening his mouth up and meeting him half way. The brunet cannot even think straight with the way Steve is holding him, so gentle and careful like he is afraid to break him but still with a tight embrace. The slow pace, the pull and give of the kiss is fucking ruining him with pleasure in the best way possible and he cannot even hold in the little content noises slipping from the back of his throat as Steve grows in confidence and begins brazenly licking into his mouth although still keeping up his tortuous and sluggish pace.

Bucky really has no idea how long they stand in that door way but he knows if he does not leave soon then he never will and maybe that would not even be that bad of a thing. He pulls back with an aborted sound, giving Steve one last selfish peck before putting a safe distance between them because the blond’s eyes are twinkling and his mouth is red and glossy with spit and Bucky is seriously too weak for this.

“I’ll call you, alright?” Bucky says trying his best not to sound like he is about to either faint or just rub one off against Steve's thigh right now.

With a heavy breath Steve nods, a crooked grin matching his flushed cheeks and yea Bucky really cannot deal with this.

“I’ll see you later Buck. Maybe next time you could use the front door though?” Steve offers pressing his lips together.

And like most of the things Bucky does, he does not really think before murmuring, “I’d rather see the back door actually.”

Bucky is 97% sure he has found his soul mate when Steve laughs so hard he has to kiss him quite. So yea. Probably not worse than a dream. Probably better.

**Author's Note:**

> So yea I hope you liked it! Comments, questions, rants, whatever you please, feel free to hit my up I love hearing from you guys.xx


End file.
